


A Ghost Story

by aionimica



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America Civil War, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Past Brainwashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:36:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6817285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aionimica/pseuds/aionimica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ghosts of the past not resting until acknowledged, and all that."</p><p>Bucky actually does remember Nat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Ghost Story

There really wasn’t a reason for her to be in Wakanda. Of course, almost the entirety of the United Nations was out to arrest her, but when was that new? 

But before she disappeared again, there was someone she needed to see. Steve just stared and then shrugged when she asked. 

“You’ve got about two hours before the cryo is ready,” he said. “Mind if I ask why?”

Natasha winked. “I’m not going to kill him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Haha, very funny. Go talk to your ghost story.”

She had laughed and nudged him in the shoulder, but as she turned away, the bottom of her stomach fell out. Her ghost story. Her ghost. She had searched for him for years, but he was always out of her grasp, always gone before she could catch up. 

But now they were both here in Wakanda and Natasha figured she might as well see him one last time. Ghosts of the past not resting until acknowledged, and all that. 

He sat around the corner, staring blankly at the wall. How many times had she seen that expression in her mirror? How many months did it take before she thought of that face as herself? Perhaps freezing those moments was the less painful option. 

The last time she saw him, she had been on his shoulders, trying to squeeze the air from his lungs and he had laid her out on a table. Seeing him that close,  _ knowing  _ he was that close - seeing that look in his eyes sent her back across decades, lingering with a thick tongue and the taste of blood, of stolen moments, and the cry of the hunt - she had whispered in desperation ‘ _ you could at least recognize me _ ’, but her  _ soldat _ did not answer. 

In reality, she didn’t expect him to say anything again. What would she say?  _ By the way, back when you were brainwashed and Hydra’s killing machine, you trained me and oh. We did fall a tiny bit in love.  _ Yeah, super helpful for a healing brain. 

So, she just walked past the bench. He looked odd without the arm; helpless, defenseless, lost. Anyone who fell for that was going to be disappointed: he was anything but. She almost smiled. T’Challa was personally drawing up a prototype for the replacement. Steve said it would be ready when he woke up. Natasha almost wished she would be here for that. It would be a sight to see. But the world wouldn't stop, and neither would she. She had to go. He didn’t move as she passed, but from the corner of her eye, she watched his eyebrow twitch. Blue eyes tracked her, analyzing and searching, but he never moved, never made a sound.  

Natasha told herself that it was what she expected. Her ghost story was just that: it didn’t exist.

Her hand was on the door handle when he finally spoke. 

“ _ Krasnaya ptichka, _ ” he said. The russian rolled over his tongue and hit her with the force of an ocean. It carried her and caressed her across time, burdened with memories that she had locked away long ago. She froze. 

Frost kisses graced her skin, taking her breath away. Hands grabbing in the dark night, between flickering halls. The chill of metal pressed against her. Stolen moments and stolen time. Stolen memories that she told herself were just dreams (they couldn’t have been real). Ghosts don’t talk, ghosts don’t remember. 

 

Slowly she turned. What could be considered a smile carved across broken lips.  “You always flew away so quickly. ”

  
  



End file.
